Wednesday, October 24th, 2007
Chesterton, Maryland
We are freshly docked after hauling back anchor and motoring up the Chester River all morning. Up on deck, the crew is preparing to put our smallboat Chausser in the water. Rain has been spitting down on them all day but somehow, the idea of independently messing around in a boat is appealing right now. I run up and help tail a gantl'n. We all work well together because that is how things have always been. The very design and fabric of our crew depends on our working as a unit. If it wasn't for this unity being ingrained in us I think this afternoon would be rather hellish. Short tempers, short fuses, short on love... No one is stretching far beyond the gripe of our miserable moment here. Everyone is wet and has been standing around doing menial little jobs in the rain. We all need kisses and the day to be done. For me, the day is always a little longer. Chin up. The sooner I make dinner, the sooner it will be off my mind and I can slip into thick soft sleep.
A small walk through the rain to Andy's, the local pub. I cozy into an old cracking vinyl couch and sip my hot cider while loading my scribbles for you to read. Whoever you are, there is good conversation here and a listening ear. I'm feeling lonesome for laughter and talk and will soon meander back to my drippy boat. Huzzah for life.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
These joys of mine
Tuesday, October 23rd, 2007
Anchored outside of Annapolis, our morning has been rather full of slow yawns and shy stretching. After a rather crazy season of madcap sailing and whirlwind port stops, all of a sudden we have a loose schedule that allows for some meandering. Late breakfast today with no desperate need to haul anchor and get out of here; instead, the crew is chatting away about the cold we all have, about cheap rolling tobacco and the military boats that are skirting about us. Yesterday Meg came down the companionway, laughter all twinkling around her, shouting out how hilarious the boys were being. With piecrust on my hands, I stumbled up and there, down in the headrig were the laughingest group of sailors that I've seen in a long time. Kemper, Charlie, Freeman, Rhys; all were down there with their feet in the water, splashing and laughing like kids. I ran and got my camera, wanting to capture their happiness, to bottle it up in a photograph so I can uncork it later in life and breathe in the moment again. It seems like it's been a long time since we played on the boat and the childlike wonder and timelessness of the moment... all that I love were there in that moment. In retrospect, I should have jumped in there too, but for my pink skirt and the apple pie waiting for a topcrust, I probably would have. You know, I'm learning that there is joy and abandon not just in running around like a kid (or a hobo, a hiker, a ski-bum... an free spirited artist...) Part of the joy is in being who you are with all of the responsibilities intact; being who you are, thankful and in the moment, whether you are a goofy boy climbing trees or a woman with laundry to fold. Once again these thoughts of being, of is-ness. By the way, the apple pie was tremendous.
Anchored outside of Annapolis, our morning has been rather full of slow yawns and shy stretching. After a rather crazy season of madcap sailing and whirlwind port stops, all of a sudden we have a loose schedule that allows for some meandering. Late breakfast today with no desperate need to haul anchor and get out of here; instead, the crew is chatting away about the cold we all have, about cheap rolling tobacco and the military boats that are skirting about us. Yesterday Meg came down the companionway, laughter all twinkling around her, shouting out how hilarious the boys were being. With piecrust on my hands, I stumbled up and there, down in the headrig were the laughingest group of sailors that I've seen in a long time. Kemper, Charlie, Freeman, Rhys; all were down there with their feet in the water, splashing and laughing like kids. I ran and got my camera, wanting to capture their happiness, to bottle it up in a photograph so I can uncork it later in life and breathe in the moment again. It seems like it's been a long time since we played on the boat and the childlike wonder and timelessness of the moment... all that I love were there in that moment. In retrospect, I should have jumped in there too, but for my pink skirt and the apple pie waiting for a topcrust, I probably would have. You know, I'm learning that there is joy and abandon not just in running around like a kid (or a hobo, a hiker, a ski-bum... an free spirited artist...) Part of the joy is in being who you are with all of the responsibilities intact; being who you are, thankful and in the moment, whether you are a goofy boy climbing trees or a woman with laundry to fold. Once again these thoughts of being, of is-ness. By the way, the apple pie was tremendous.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Towards Cambridge
Thursday, October 17th 2007
Pride of Baltimore II
Baltimore, Maryland
Today we leave for Cambridge. We're not filled with the fluttery , wild imaginations of upcoming adventures for Cambridge is not a very long voyage, not particularly exotic. What is solid and good is to be sailing again. Sure, we brag up how great it will be to get into a town, to meet new people, to drink beers and sleep a whole night through. All that is great but it's not what we're here for. Miserable, tired and stretched to our capacities, we are yet brilliantly alive when sailing as we do. Maybe the crew of a boat serve merely as human cogs in the mechanisms of transportation, but there is satisfaction in being mind-numbingly immersed in the act of 'being' a cog. I think this is what is entrancing about watching people walk along the brickways here in Baltimore: I see only a cameo of their lives but in that moment do they so fill themselves exactly as they are with no added pretentionss or ego. If you try to go beyond that first brief impression of a person, they are found to be complicated and full of air pockets, which is to say that they are not full at all, but blown up with ego. I am the worst of all sometimes but when we sail, it blows all that away and I become simple and purely a sailor sailing, a cook cooking, a worshiper in the act of worship. All this babble is just trying to embroider and thicken a small, slippery thought that is hard to hold onto, namely the mindful and wholehearted immersion in the act of being. So, we will set out in a bit and leave Baltimore, bound for the Eastern Shore. We will grumble and gripe and feel tired and overworked but singing through our veins will be the simple joy of being as we do what we are here to do.
Pride of Baltimore II
Baltimore, Maryland
Today we leave for Cambridge. We're not filled with the fluttery , wild imaginations of upcoming adventures for Cambridge is not a very long voyage, not particularly exotic. What is solid and good is to be sailing again. Sure, we brag up how great it will be to get into a town, to meet new people, to drink beers and sleep a whole night through. All that is great but it's not what we're here for. Miserable, tired and stretched to our capacities, we are yet brilliantly alive when sailing as we do. Maybe the crew of a boat serve merely as human cogs in the mechanisms of transportation, but there is satisfaction in being mind-numbingly immersed in the act of 'being' a cog. I think this is what is entrancing about watching people walk along the brickways here in Baltimore: I see only a cameo of their lives but in that moment do they so fill themselves exactly as they are with no added pretentionss or ego. If you try to go beyond that first brief impression of a person, they are found to be complicated and full of air pockets, which is to say that they are not full at all, but blown up with ego. I am the worst of all sometimes but when we sail, it blows all that away and I become simple and purely a sailor sailing, a cook cooking, a worshiper in the act of worship. All this babble is just trying to embroider and thicken a small, slippery thought that is hard to hold onto, namely the mindful and wholehearted immersion in the act of being. So, we will set out in a bit and leave Baltimore, bound for the Eastern Shore. We will grumble and gripe and feel tired and overworked but singing through our veins will be the simple joy of being as we do what we are here to do.
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